


The Promise

by lady_readalot



Series: The Light to Guide You [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5602231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_readalot/pseuds/lady_readalot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back in the Academy days, Bones makes Jim an offhand promise: if Jim is dying and giving a sentimental speech, Bones must stop him and save his dignity. What he doesn't know is how much this promise is going to weigh on him in the future. Dammit, Jim. Kinda-fluffy, rated T for major Bones potty mouth and Jim injuries, and a Spock cameo. Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Promise

It happens when they're watching a movie, of all things.

Jim had invited himself over (as usual), sauntering in one evening with a six-pack and a grin. Leonard had grumbled, because it was his prerogative, but Jim had waved him off and collapsed on the sofa. He had flung the movie in Leonard's direction, silencing his "Dammit Jim, I've got a test tomorrow" instantly and declaring an impromptu movie night. His choice of movie, however, had left much to be desired.

"Ugh." Jim groans, covering his face in mock shame. "That is just…I don't even know. That's humiliating."

Leonard grunts, raising an eyebrow. "How d'you figure?"

Jim points at the scene indignantly. "That guy's supposed to be captain! And , what, he's dying, so all he's doing is giving this speech on love and peace and shit? Are you kidding me?" Leonard squints at the offender, a regal, good-looking captain who was clearly on his deathbed and surrounded by more than one beautiful woman. Jim, surprisingly, seems unmoved by this picture and continues ranting. "You're supposed to be doing everything you can to help out your crew, not lie there giving grandiose speeches and stuff! I mean, come on!" He glares at the character like it has cussed out everything he holds dear.

Leonard knows that there's a lot of Jim's personal history behind that outburst, so he just casually takes a sip of beer. "Yeah, kid." He agrees nonchalantly, waving aside a pang of sadness. "But you do realize this is fiction, right? As in, not real."

Jim sighs, propping his feet up against Leonard's coffee table. "Yeah, I know, but still…" He trails off for a second, then snaps his attention back to Leonard. "Hey, Bones? Promise me something, would ya?"

Leonard's too busy glaring at Jim's feet to _get the hell down from my coffee table_ to really pay attention. "Yeah?"

"When I become a captain," Jim begins firmly. "and if I ever get into a situation like that, promise me you will _not_ let me go out giving a cheesey speech. Do whatever you have to. Okay?"

Leonard looks up, a little surprised at Jim's tone. "Sure, Jim." He says quietly, more to appease him than anything. To lighten the atmosphere, he quickly adds "But you're assumin' here that you're going to get me to come with you into one of those tin cans, up there into disease-ridden nowhere. No, thanks."

Jim stares at him for a second before breaking out into his usual roguish grin. "Guess you're gonna have to promise to do that, too." He says lightly, leaning back on the sofa and placing his feet back on the floor.

"Sure, Jim." Leonard says, making sure to lay it heavy on the sarcasm that time. Because, while Jim had a good shot at captaincy, what were the odds his promise would seriously ever come to anything?

* * *

Soon after, Leonard begins to reconsider his promise.

Jim is captain now, an official captain of the newly-minted Starship _Enterprise_ at the ripe old age of twenty-five. He gets a ceremony and everything, and Leonard is in the crowd watching Jim receive his medal and inwardly shaking his head. _You've done it, you little bastard_. He thinks, irritably and kind-of-proudly (shut up). _The higher-ups have no idea what they're in for_.

It's at that moment, though, watching Jim smiling proudly with his new captain's bars that Leonard begins to feel the stirrings of doubt. He remembers the promise from three years (forever) ago, and realizes that it might just happen. The incident with Nero had proved that Jim would step out willingly into danger, and that could preclude something far more damaging. He had promised to follow this young, idealistic captain into deep space, and had sworn that he would be there for him in a situation where he was dying.

 _Shit_. Leonard swears inwardly. He thinks that about covers it.

* * *

About four months into Jim's captaincy, Leonard feels like he's losing his shit.

It's been a rough few months, to put it mildly. Leonard's been thrust into his position as CMO a little too quickly (like everyone else on this goddam ship) and feels a little bit lost and out of control. This was nothing like his quiet little practice in Georgia. Here it was colder, more impersonal, and a hell of a lot scarier to glance out of the window into a huge expanse of nothing.

So he suffers from aviophobia. Sue him.

At least, that's what he tells Jim in their bi-weekly drinking nights. He makes sure to complain long and loud to his inexperienced captain about what he's gotten them into, but Jim just nods, rolls his eyes, grins and cajoles Leonard into staying on for at least another few days. "C'mon Bones," He says, both supportively and pleadingly, "You're doing a great job. We just gotta get used to this. I'm doing the best I can, man. We'll be the most kickass crew ever by the time a year is up, just you wait."

Leonard just grunts and makes sure not to make eye contact. He feels a little bad unloading all this on Jim every time, but, hey, it's partly his fault Leonard's so stressed out nowadays. Mainly because of that (stupid, goddamn) promise. It's beginning to make a permanent home in the back of his brain, like an afterthought that never quite goes away.

The thing is, Jim's never really had anyone to trust with promises before, and no one had ever really cared enough to pay attention to what he wanted. So he'll be damned before he lets Jim down on this.

Despite his good intentions, though, the mentality is beginning to wear him out just a little. In the sense that it's keeping him up at night, leaving him wide-awake well into the wee hours of the morning running through contingency plans in his head. For example: _If Jim's fatally bleeding out, gently remind him of the promise. Remind him of how much time he has to talk_. And: _If he's confused and not himself, you're gonna have to be more aggressive about it._

In fact, he obsesses over his planning so much that by the time Jim is hitting his sixth month of captaincy; Leonard has got everything figured out, contingency plans and all. It's a really odd (and upsetting) thing to think about, and while Leonard's perfectionist qualities served him well in med school, they're just about driving him out of his mind here.

 _What the hell, Leonard_? He finds himself thinking all too often. _What are you doing to yourself? And to Jim? Jesus._

And so, Leonard's first six months in space was defined by a lack of sleep, dreams of blood, and constant stress, both from his CMO duties and his pain-in-the-ass captain. It does a hell of a downer on his mood, strengthening the "grumpy Southern doctor" reputation he seems to have gotten and leaving his staff scattering from him in terror.

He thinks to himself: _Why did I ever make that goddamn promise?_

* * *

_Oh._ Leonard thinks numbly, hands pressed on the hard surface of a large boulder. _That's why_.

This whisper is currently hanging around in the back of his mind because he's engrossed in his task, and is ineffectually shoving at a huge boulder that currently has his captain pinned to the floor. His knees are damp (with Jim's _blood,_ shit) and he can hear a distinct wheeze in the young captain's respirations. He needs medical attention, _now_.

But he can't get it, because they're currently in the middle of Bumfuck, _nowhere_ (or whatever the fuck this planet is called) and are separated from the rest of the landing party in freaking radio silence, in some mountain range that looks like it goes on forever. It's a very real possibility that Jim will bleed out from wherever he's hurt, or go into shock from whatever crushed limb he's received, but Leonard can't _help_ because he can't move this fucking _boulder_. He can't even tell _where_ Jim is hurt, but he knows that it's bad.

 _Oh my God._ He's thinking, caught between forced calm and pure hysteria. _Oh my God. I might have to do it._

But that's not what he's saying aloud. "Jim?" He keeps questioning, firm and definitely-not-panicked. "Jim, help is on the way. I need you to keep calm. Try to stay awake, and I'll take care of the rest."

Jim's baby-blues bat a couple times. "Bones?" He whispers, his voice confused and vulnerable with pain. "Wha's goin' on?"

Leonard flashes him a quick, fake smile. _Shit._ "Just stay awake." He repeats.

Jim gives him a small grin back, blinks some more, then opens his mouth again. "Hey Bones." He says, then repeats it. "Hey, Bones, you know you've been great…"

Despite all the thinking, all the hours, all the late nights he's stayed up planning for this, he's not ready. _He's not ready for this shit. No._

The stupid night of the stupid promise flashes into Leonard's mind, and his practical training and common sense tells him Jim doesn't have much time left. He thinks of his friend, his captain, and the trust they have in each other. Goddamn, he hates this.

"Jim," He begins, choking on his words. "Kid, you stop right there. You're veering into cheesey territory now. Remember?" He can't allow him the luxury of last words. Jim had asked him not to.

The confusion in Jim's eyes just grows stronger. "Huh?" He asks, sounding slightly hurt. "But…"

" _Kid._ " Leonard pleads. "Don't make me do this. Please." Strangely enough, his mind flashes to the crew. _They're gonna hate me for this._ He thinks vaguely. _Not only am I a shitty physician, I am a goddamn shitty friend._

He reaches out to Jim, acting now not as a CMO, but as a friend. Goddamn, he's not going to allow Jim to be alone, he's not…

"Is the captain in need of immediate medical attention?"

Suddenly, Spock is there, reaching out and laying his hand lightly on the boulder. "I will remove this and prepare the captain for immediate transport." He pauses. "Doctor, will the captain need pressure to be maintained on his wound?"

Leonard is actually stunned silent. Despite the gravity of the situation, everything slows down: Jim's blinking, Spock's uncharacteristically twitchy fingers, his own ragged breathing, all of it seems to freeze in a moment of disbelief and relief.

" _Doctor McCoy_ " Spock hisses urgently, the novelty of it snapping Leonard right out of his daze. "What may I do to help the captain?"

Leonard rushes to Jim. "I need to keep this stabilized. Roll the boulder off, contact the Enterprise and tell them to get emergency triage ready, then beam us up! Now!"

As Spock gets to work, Jim miraculously continues talking, words spilling from bloody lips. "I love you guys." He murmurs. "You're all awesome. The best crew I could ever hope for. I… _owww_."

"It's okay, Jim." Leonard mutters, doing a quick check of his wounds. "You'll be fine."

He doesn't shut Jim up, though.

* * *

Hours later, Jim has pulled enough another goddamn miraculous recovery (dammit Jim) and Leonard is sitting by his bedside, resting, now that he can. His elbows are on his knees, head in his hands and thoughts scurrying all over the place.

Weirdly, the one thing that keeps sticking out to him is: _Spock showed up. He showed up._

After all his planning, all the nights he stayed up convincing himself he was doing his captain right, he never actually considered that the crew would…be there. To help him. To help Jim. Well, he'd known in theory, but not in the way that it would factor in to the saving-life way. Not in the way that would have an impact on Jim's final hurrah: the ones that Jim would maybe want to say those things to.

Does…does he honestly have the right to take that away? They're both different people now: better, more mature, more responsible, less bitter. _We should talk._ Leonard decides, running a hand through his hair wearily. _We should actually talk about this_.

And now he's thinking about talking. _Great._ _That's Jim for ya. The little shit_.

A series of small scuffling sound alerts Leonard to the fact that said little shit is waking up. He sits up quickly and turns to Jim, keeping an eye on the monitor for his vitals. "Jim? You hear me?"

Jim groans. "…Bones?"

"Who else would be here after you get yourself injured _again_?" Leonard sighs, running his tricorder over his injured captain. Everything looks good, considering. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Jim glances from Leonard's tricorder-filled hands to his totally expressionless face. "Nice. Mess with the injured guy, why don't you?"

"Sarcasm is a higher brain function. For you, so to speak, of course. You're fine." Leonard puts the tricorder away and sits back down, suddenly turning serious. "Jim…"

Jim seems to catch on to his tone, and responds before Leonard can continue. "Yeah, Bones. I know it was close this time." He grins. "I'll be more careful. And, I guess, need to be more captain-like." He gives Leonard an appraising glance. "Thanks for everything. Seriously. But…I think I'm good now. I can handle it. All the weird injury-related stuff." He grin turns a little sad. "Wasn't fair to put all that on you anyway, with my issues and all. I'll be fine now. You're off the hook."

"Still your CMO, Jim." Leonard mutters. "Still have to patch you up every time your reckless ass gets you injured." But he can hear the meaning behind the words, and is frankly kind of amazed Jim remembers this at all. But clearly, he's noticed. And Leonard's off the hook.

Weirdly, this doesn't sit right with him, the giving up of his captain's (friend's) right to dignity. "Still gotta patch you up," He repeats, surprising himself by meaning it this time. "But I guess I'll stop thinking about it all the time. You know, on account of all the gray hairs you're giving me."

Jim grins. "You got that right. Don't put all that blame on me though: you're kind of old, so…"

"Shut up." Leonard mutters, feeling like he could get used to the idea of non-morbid thinking. "Got Spock to help me there. The crew'll step in to kick your ass when I'm too busy to do it."

Jim sinks back in the biobed, muttering "This is mutiny" while Leonard continues to do his goddamn job, thinking _this little shit_ but still glad that he's around to be such an effective pain in the ass.

No more death thoughts, he promises himself. He'll only think to help, and to factor in the rest of the crew, and to listen to whatever the hell his captain wants to tell him. At any time.

He thinks Jim will like this promise, too.


End file.
